My mother taught me joy

I was looking through the pictures on my camera, and this one made me smile. Again. I love this picture of my mom. The Wendy's Frosty spoon in her hand was just on her nose. My mom taught me about laughter and acting on impulses to have fun.

One of my silliest childhood memories is of my mom driving my sister, me, and friends back from Santa Cruz on a summer weekday. We were in the throes of nasty commute traffic, but we were breezing by in the diamond lane. She had us roll down our windows and yell, "Get a friend!" to the folks stuck in traffic. We did it with much enthusiasm.

When we were little girls, we would "rock out" (frantically rock back and forth) in the car. She would turn up the radio, yell "rock out," and we knew what to do. The springs in our backseat were a bit uncomfortable after so much rocking out, but it was so worth it. I'll show you my fantastic rocking out moves some time, if you're interested.

I remember the devious look on her face as she asked, "Don't you just want something sweet?" We, in our jammies, would pile in the car and run down to the convenience store, each of us choosing a candy bar. We would hide the evidence from my dad before he got home because, inevitably, we forgot to get him one.

More recently, about a year ago, on the way home from my sister's house, on a country road detour at dusk, she asked, "Have you ever heard the windmills?" She pulled over the car, we rolled down the windows, and we laughed about the creepy noise they make. It was a moment. It spoke of spontaneity and summer.

My mother taught me beauty.

Kimmy poo is writing about her mom, too.